Dead Man Walking
by InsomniacFlaaffy
Summary: "My name is Russel Hobbs. I live alone in this old two-bedroom flat..." Remember when they say cats have nine lives? Well, so do Cat Ladies and Cat Men.
1. Prologue: Dead

_**Author's Note:**__** I dedicate this fanfic to Cat, Sempai Lollonz, Ima-Kind, Lilowoof, Krysoul, Sass Master, Sabreshot, Birddog, Lel, and my boyfriend; who believed in me when I couldn't.**_

_Tick._

_Tock._

_Tick._

_Tock._

The steady, monotone clicking of the black cat clock attached to the wall on the far side of the room was the only noise that echoed throughout the old flat. Six-Thirty P.M.; the clock read and its ticking droned onwards still.

_Tick._

_Tock._

_Tick._

_Tock._

Somber, grey clouds passed by the open window nearby; it seemed as if the moon itself didn't want to appear on this particular night. The light wisp of smoke from a recently lit cigarette rose out of the overflowing ashtray on the windowsill with an empty pack of smokes close-by. It would be the last cigarette he would ever light.

_ "My name is Russel Hobbs. I live alone in this old two-bedroom flat. I rarely go outside. Some would say it's a lonely life and I guess that's true, but I don't like people's company. Not lately, anyway. I only trust my cats these days and I'll miss them dearly…"_

"_But they will understand, like they always have…"_

Wide, yellow eyes of a black cat stared back at him from a distance. Both of the two were silent as they locked their sights on one another. _"Teacup stays with me 'till the end. He watches me, as if he knew…"_

"_Because earlier tonight I swallowed a whole bunch of pills…"_

_ "They're legal, of course. Prescribed by my doctor for my sleeping problems. But I've taken thirty-four of them. All I could find in the cupboard and now the room around me spins in a blurry tango as my heart slows down."_

"_Any second now, I will be dead. I feel calm. I'm ready for it. I've only got one thing to say now…"_

"_Thanks for nothing. Goodbye."_

As he faded away, those yellow eyes still stared and time marched on.

_Tick._

_Tock._

_Tick._

_Tock._


	2. The King of Maggots

Chapter One: The King of Maggots

Twilight: a brief moment between day and night, point in time where both the sun and moon occupy the always changing sky. Some would say Twilight and Purgatory are two sides of the same twisted coin; either of the two left you in a somewhat empty state when caught in them. Empty and hollow like a dense shell of your former self, nothing but a cold husk. Or that's how he saw it to be, he was certainly not the most positive human being there was in the world. But, then again, he left the terrible world behind some time ago, it seemed. He finally did something right for once; ended his miserable life. And now here he was, stuck in between, waiting and thinking. He didn't feel free of relieved like he expected to feel after death, just pure emptiness.

He rested on his back in the middle of a magnificent field of golden barley and watched the salmon painted sky overhead turn dark blue. The barley swayed back and forth in the warm, summer breeze above and all around him. Their wavy movements was almost hypnotic and calming but yet, he felt worried and on edge. Why should he feel like that? The deed was done and that's that. Regret reared its ugly, grim head a little too late.

For some reason, Russel felt the need to stand to his feet and so he did. The field seemed to stretch for miles in all directions, never-ending it looked like. To the north of his current location, right on the horizon, he could barely make out a building or some kind of shed. He felt strangely drawn to the mysterious building; maybe it was important to him? There was nothing else for him to lose anyway… The barley folded and crunched beneath his shoes as he moved forward, it couldn't have been several feet he walked and he was already at the shed. What kind of space-altering magic was being used here?

The shed appeared ancient and weathered on the outside. With chipped paint on its walls, a single cracked window and a tattered, monochrome flag hung high; the place looked hideous and a bit unsafe. A rusty padlock sealed the only entrance inside and with no tools to break off the lock nearby; he was a sitting duck once again. He needed to unlock this door but where would its key be? Another uncertain step to the right and the scenery changed in the blink of an eye.

Colors of the environment had shifted to greyscale; concrete now replaced the golden fields under him. The world was closed off by walls of cracked concrete which formed a long, underground tunnel around him. Old, abandoned cars and various sizes of debris lined the dim-lit underpass which Russel paid no attention to as he passed by. The only vehicle that retained its colors was an ambulance at the tunnel's exit; it blocked anything or anyone from entering or leaving. Splattered on the vehicle's backdoors was either red paint or dried blood, he didn't want to dwell on that thought. If he wanted to escape this place, he could try climbing through the ambulance. He tugged on the door handles several times with no avail; the doors were locked like everything else in his life. The windows was covered in a thick film of dust, he couldn't see anything noticeable in the back. Not even a key for the locked shed.

There was nothing left for him here so he turned back towards the metal graveyard, but the rhythmic tapping of metal on metal behind him made him turn back around. "Hello?" Russel called out to the source of the tapping: the broken down ambulance. "Is someone there? Answer me!"

The locked doors rattled once before they swung open and his dead body on a gurney flew out in front of him. To tell the truth, he expected something far worse than his own body. Russel took to the right side of the gurney and stared down at his lifeless corpse. His body was cold to the touch, even though he looked like he was just sleeping. He opened his closed eyelids; dark brown irises stared back at him in silence. His eyes were the only thing he really liked about himself; even now, they still shine a little. Russel then moved onwards to his mouth. _'When I was living, a key would even open my mouth. It would be funny if…" _His thought halted as he parted his dead lips, only to find a silver key rested on his still tongue.

_'Yep, yep. I fucking knew there would be a damn key in my mouth," _Russel removed the key from his mouth and abandoned the gurney for good; could this be the key to the shed? He heard the ceiling shift above him, causing dust and bits of rubble to fall. A support beam snapped and collapsed behind him with most of the tunnel itself. It looked like he wasn't going back there anytime soon, not that he wanted to, anyway.

With the greyscale tunnel and his dead body in the wake, the gold barley and decrepit shed appeared again. But now instead an annoying padlock to which prevented entry, a bothersome buck blocked his way. The creature lifted his head from the ground and stared back at Russel then trotted away. He didn't have time to deal with a deer right now; he had more pressing matters to like what the hell was in this shed. But the world changed around him yet again.

The shed was no longer there, only the tarnished metal frame of a rundown car in the middle of a deciduous forest. A mysterious fog settled in at his feet; a raven glared at him from a branch of a dying tree nearby. Its caws were like nails against his eardrums, he hated those feathered rats with wings. The black bird took flight and fluttered pass Russel's face, disappearing deep into the forest.

_'Good riddance," _He could hear the raven's cries echo in the distance; that awful bird was like a crappy metaphor for those terrible memories. Even though one problem was gone, his mind would repeat past events over and over again like a broken record. That's why he took his own life, to get away from those images.

He headed onto the leaf lidded path to his left now, cracked and weathered gravestones of all sizes bordered the path for what seemed for yards ahead. The forest ended in a clearing with a single tree and a rusty, metal building behind it. Another one of Russel's dead bodies hung from the tree by an aged rope tied in a noose around his neck then around the tree's trunk. His large body rocked in the wind then slumped to the hard ground when the rope's knot came undone. Another silver key was suspended as a necklace around his bruised neck. Something about this was getting repetitive. He saw his corpse, he got a key. He found another body, he got another key. Was this some kind of game? Now he had two in his pockets and made no progress towards the shed. Could it be possible to return to the field by walking as he did in the tunnel? He had no other choices left.

The fog became heavier as he passed by the same gravestones as before; the forest grew even denser than the first time he came through. A locked iron gate blocked his way now. Rotten heads of goats and pigs were mounted on the bar, a gruesome display, no less. The key he received from his hanging body fitted perfect in the gate's lock and it gave a small click as it unlocked. The doors creaked open and he stepped inside; the gate slammed shut behind him, locking itself tight.

"Welcome to my home, Russel Hobbs," A man, no older than himself, greeted him while he sat on the steps of the wooden cabin behind him. He looked familiar, like a friend he had long forgotten in the past. The smile he gave Russel was chilling; it matched his cold, 'Bambi' like eyes. "I have been waiting for you. Don't you know it's rude to keep 'friends' waiting for so long?"

Russel took a step closer to the strange man. "Who…who are you?"

The man shrugged. "I go by so many names; it's kinda hard to choose one." He folded his over one another and rested his chin on them; the man asked. "But I'm curious; who do you think I am?

Russel answered in a quiet tone. "Death?"

He nodded. "Interesting. Yes, perhaps that's what I am. I come when there's something to take," His smile then turned to a menacing grin, his white teeth shined in the setting sun. "But I never give anything back. I am DOOM, but I'm SALVATION as well. I'm feared by most, yet adored by some too…some like yourself, Russel."

"Don't flatter yourself," Russel retorted coldly. "I don't even know you."  
"Well, that's quite right. I've been around for a while," He paused as he leaned back to rest his elbows on the stairs. "Keeping you company. Always there, you know? Always there…"

"So I was wrong. You're not Death."

"No, I am not. Perhaps, I'm Life?" He shrugged once more. "But then again, does it really matter?"

"What is this place?"

"This is my humble kingdom and you are my special guest."

Russel scoffed. "Me? Special? I can tell you now there's nothing special about me."

"Don't put yourself down, Russel Hobbs! You're my guest of honour! Like I said, I have been waiting," The weird man appeared pleased with his presence. It looked like he would have to go along with whatever this guy had to get some kind of answers.

"What happens next?" He asked.

"It depends on you. Inside my house, there are dark hallways that lead to places you don't want to see. But there is also something that will make you want to return to where you came from and cherish every single little breath you take. I'm going to make you an offer, Russel. It's a chance only a fool would refuse!"

"Okay…" Russel said with a heavy sigh. He was getting tired of all these half-assed responses. "An offer? What can you offer me?"

The man stood to his feet and stepped onto the porch. He motioned Russel to follow suit. "Let's come inside. It's getting cold out here."

The wooden cabin had all the qualities as a normal old house would have. The recognizable scent of moth balls, dusty knick-knacks placed here and there, squeaky floorboards; the place wasn't really grand for a person he believed to be Death. He was expecting the house to be bigger and more striking on the inside, like the Tardis. Was this a fever dream? Nothing in this place seemed real.

"Now we can talk properly," The man said in the calmest voice as they stood together in the foyer.

"I still don't know who you are…" Russel said, a bit apprehensive.

"I go by many names. I've never paid attention to what the living call me. But there is one name the fallen ones use when I speak to them. I find it most accurate," The man bowed in a very humble manner. "_The King of Maggots_."

"Is that what you are? Why…Maggots?"

"Because they feed on what's dead and gone."

"Dead and gone," Russel repeated and turned his head away from the King. "I guess that's me then. Will I be punished for taking my life?"

"Most people would be but not you. You see, I watched you long enough to understand how you feel. I don't expect you to believe me, but I have sympathy for you."

Russel frowned; he didn't want anyone's sympathy. Why couldn't he just be left alone and die in peace?

The King continued. "Who knows? I could be your own friend! The only friend in the whole, wide world! So like I said, I'm going to make you an offer. I want to help you. I will give you back your happiness in exchange for a simple task. You will soon forget the sadness that has consumed your heart for years."

"Is there anyone else here?"

The King gave a hearty laugh at his question; Russel could hear the laughter echo throughout the other rooms. And which he replied, "Why? I thought you liked being alone? Isn't that why you ran away from everyone?!"

"It doesn't matter…"

"I was standing right behind you when you threw away all those photographs, you know? I held you in my arms every night you cried yourself to sleep. I SAW EVERYTHING! I know what you want," He out stretched his arms and shook his head. "But it's not here. It's gone and it will never ever come again…"

"What do you want me to do?" asked Russel.

Then the King nodded his head. "Yes, I think it's time to explain. But where are my manners? We're still in the hall. This is not a place for a serious talk! Follow me to the next room. I'll tell you everything you need to know." The King of Maggots disappeared into the room behind him and, just as he was told, Russel followed.

The room was filled with the same red candles lined up on a table which the King stood by with his arms folded behind his back. Even though the candles' flames were steady, they produced no smoke that Russel could see. "What's your offer then? What can you fix that Life has destroyed?"

"Russel, death can fix nothing. Even though we are both dead, I am not Death. I might seem just a strange man to you, but I'm just as powerful as gods…And I chose you." He turned his back to Russel. "I'll need you to go back and face five people. They're not ordinary people. They're special, just like you. Only in a slightly different way…"

"Those five people…who are they?"

The King faced twisted with disgust. "The 'Parasites', that's what I call them. They don't know each other but their destinies are bound together. You will have to keep your eyes open and be constantly on guard. Those people will want to get closer to you. They might even pretend they are your friends. But don't let that fool you! They have nothing but cruel intentions. They'll want to kill you. As harmless as they might appear, Parasites are the evil scum of the earth and they all deserve to die!"

"Isn't my life bad enough without them?"

The King turned back to Russel and smiled. "Don't be frightened. You will have a great advantage over them. They don't know that YOU know. Do you understand what that means?

"…"

"You will become my hunter, serving punishment for their sins. A tool of destruction. A dark angel walking through the river of blood. You'll find your purpose in life when you see for the first time how satisfying it can be."

"But…how will I recognize them?" He asked.

"There isn't a great deal of people in your lonely life, is there Russel?" The King questioned in a mocking tone. "You will know when you see them." His voice then grew harsh. "Bring those deceitful bastards in front of me and we'll make them regret for everything they've done!"

"Are you expecting me to kill them?"

"No, Russel. I'm expecting you to fight for survival. To do everything you can to defend yourself. I know you're not a murderer. Quite the opposite, actually. You are a good person. But I also know that you don't want to suffer. And those people will want to cause you pain. They won't hesitate. In the end, you might have no choice. Think of it as gardening- if they were weeds amongst the flowers, you'd pull them out, wouldn't you? You'd get rid of them without thinking twice about it."

"I'm not really a gardening type…but I see your point."

"I'm glad," The King replied, content. "And remember this: you are not their only victim. If you don't stop them, the killing will continue. Innocent people will die. You have the opportunity to make the difference. And the chance to save yourself."

Russel sighed and held his head down low. "Why did you choose me? Aren't you afraid I will let you down, whatever it is have to do? Most days it's enough of a struggle to crawl out of bed. I don't see the point of anything. I just want to disappear. And I hate everyone else because they know how to be happy. Everywhere I turn there are people filled with hope and the will to live or people so pitiful they make me ashamed to be alive. I don't want them. There's nobody there for me, _I am alone._"

"This is the very reason I chose you, Russel," He rested his hand on Russel's shoulder. "I know how you feel…because I felt like this myself for a very long time. You and I are very much alike. If you succeed, you will never feel broken again."

"I can't do this; dealing with criminals is a job for the police, not someone like me." He said.

"Indeed, you are weak. That's why I've prepared a special gift for you: IMMORTALITY. You cannot die. You will always return to life, no matter what happens to you."

"What?! This is the last thing I wanted! Please, can't you just let me die?" Russel pled.

"I've made the decision. As long as THEY are alive, you cannot die."  
"That's blackmail! You can't do that!"

"I'm doing it for your own good," The King was beginning to sound more and more like a close-minded parent. "Anyway, you are in no position to bargain with me. You will either go and do what you have to do or suffer for eternity, forever unable to find your peace."

"I don't believe you, this is all just a weird dream." He said, breaking his eye contact with the King of Maggots. This had to be a dream, no one could be immortal. Things like that only happen in fairy tales and young adult fanfictions.

The King pointed to the open door to his left. "See this door? Let's go inside." As they entered the door, the two were transported back to the barley field but the wind was blowing harder than the last time. "I want to show you something that will help you make up your mind. Follow me."

A brisk walk through the field lead them to another room, the room that started it all for Russel. His decaying body was stretched over a wooden cross, crucified. That same horrid raven returned again, landed on the cross and pecked away at his leathery fingers.

"Yes, it's you," The King said in a flat tone. "Come closer. Say 'hello'…"

He shook his head in disbelief. All those horrible memories he hid from for years; the same reason he took his life; hung right there in front of him. "I don't want to look at it!" He finally choked out. "Haven't I had enough? That body in the ambulance, then the forest, but this place…This is exactly what I was trying to run from! I don't want to be HERE! Make it go away!"

"I assumed it would be wise to give you a little taste of the suffering you'd endure." The room quivered as the King of Maggots spoke. He faced the soulless corpse and raised his hands towards it. "I want you to understand that you can keep going long after you can't. Russel, it's time to make a decision. The Parasites are coming whether you like it or not. You must stand up for yourself!" The roar of thunder boomed through the grey clouds above, the sudden strong gust of wind made Russel shield his face with his arms. Could he really do the bidding of this man and kill people? He wasn't a killer but he wasn't going to say no to a person who could make his nightmares a reality. It was either kill these 'Parasites' or stare his own crucifixion until the end of days. It wouldn't kill him again to try, now would it?

"Fine, I'll do want you want." He answered as the wind calmed; his ears still rang from the passing storm.

"Excellent! I'm glad you have put your trust in me."

"I…I haven't really got anyone else."

"You shall not regret this, I promise. Lights up!" As if someone flicked a switch, the lights returned to the room and they were back in the room with the smokeless candles. The King of Maggots stood by Russel's side and rested his hand on his shoulder again. "But there is something else that must be done before you are able to leave…" The swung around to face Russel, he made sure there was no distance between them. Their noses brushed against another as they stared at each other in silence. It's strange; even though their closeness, Russel could not feel any kind of breath from the King. Those brown eyes narrowed, the corners of his mouth upturned into a nonchalant smirk, and he held Russel's chin between his thumb and index finger. The King's frigid fingers on his warm skin sent a shiver down his spine. "You cannot leave my kingdom before a sacrifice is made. It's merely a formality as I would put it. The door to your world won't open unless you make a Sacrifice of Soul and Blood." He released Russel and stepped away, waited for his response.

"It doesn't sound good at all…" Russel replied; his sentence trailed off into a quiet mutter as various thoughts came to his mind. A sacrifice of 'soul' and 'blood' didn't seem pleasant or easy.

The King motioned his hand towards the candles beside the two men. "See these candles here? Just blow one out and that's it. Like I said, it's just a formality. Then, on your way out, you will have to shed a few drops of blood. Not much, just enough to open the door."

"How much…exactly?"

"Don't be scared, my friend," The King said as he sat down in the wooden chair behind him then shrugged his shoulders. "It's easy. Anyone can do it. Just a sharp scratch, is that how you use to say it?"

"Fine, I'll do that." Russel replied. "Wish me luck, I guess."

"I do, I really do. When you leave my house, head for the field. That's where you should be." With that said, the King of Maggots waved to him. "Goodbye, my friend. I won't be far, I've never have been…"

The candles' flames danced about as a small draft carried through the old cabin. Like he noticed the first time he arrived here, the candles produced no kind of visible smoke nor appeared to have melted during his time here. Was it really this easy? Just blow out any candle and he would be free to go? It felt like there would be some kind of strings attached or consequences to these candles. Russel braced himself, leaned over the candle and extinguished the fire in a single breath.

_"I'm sorry, Alice. They left me no other choice…Maybe you will forgive me…" With one, hesitant step off the stool, the rope noose tightened around his neck as he dropped. His body swung to and fro before going limp and quiet._

"See how easy that was? Now, you've got a job to do." The unnerving voice of the King reverberated in the back of Russel's mind; it seemed like the strange man was right next to him, whispering the most incoherent sentences in his ear. It was like a bug buzzed around his head.

One turn of the silver key and the rusty padlock opened, the broken down shack became accessible. The inside of the shed was very lackluster, to say the least. The whole place was uninhabited and dusty, old looking contraption at the back of the building and a symmetrical hole in the wall nearby. The door slammed shut behind him and locked itself, someone or something didn't want him to leave quite yet. So, where was he supposed to do this 'Sacrifice of Blood' stuff the King of Maggots explained earlier? Was he supposed to turn this machine on somehow? 'Emergency Power Switch: Danger', a sign underneath the hole in the wall read. It was dark inside the hole, the heavy stench of iron wafted from deep within the darkness. Russel reached out to the hole but then paused; would the worse happen? Will he lose a finger? A hand? The King did say it wouldn't need a lot of blood for the 'sacrifice'. He lost enough already…

He used his right arm to reach inside and fumbled around for a button somewhere. Russel pressed his body against the cold wall and stretched his arm out to fit the hole's length. His middle finger grazed over something rounded at the end of the hole.

_SLAM!_

A wedged metal panel emerged at the hole's opening and sliced clean through his arm, leaving nothing but a gushing stump of flesh. He fled around the room in a pain-induced frenzy, confused as to where he was and what was going on at the moment. His mouth was agape and he attempted to force out screams of anguish but only high pitched squeaks came out. Through the turmoil, several drops of his blood splatter across the machine. Gears turned, lights switched from red to green; the dirty machine chugged to life and shack's door opened itself to a similar tunnel. He bolted out of the door and down the empty tunnel, stumbling over his feet many times. Disoriented and bleeding violently, Russel kept running forward. He continued until the light at the end enveloped him in its warm grace.


End file.
